


Three Men, Not In A Tub

by imahira



Category: Jackie Chan Adventures
Genre: Bickering, Dialogue Heavy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imahira/pseuds/imahira
Summary: New roommates make sleeping arrangements, and are then forced to remake them.
Relationships: Chow/Finn/Ratso (Jackie Chan Adventures)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Three Men, Not In A Tub

**Author's Note:**

> started this like... four years ago, thank you lithium for giving me the power to finish. why wasn't the ship tag a preexisting one when this is the most canon ot3 in all children's television

His apartment was too small for the three of them, but it was all they could afford at this point. About all they wanted, too. Furnished with whatever was in the best condition out of three separate apartments, and filled with a bunch of Finn's most valuable possessions. Plus a bunch of crap from Chow and Ratso that was going to have to be whittled down at some point, by physical force judging from their reaction to tossing any of it. For now, there were a bunch of creepy-ass kid's toys staring at him from every surface, and the TV was flanked on both sides with a bunch of garbage movies Chow claimed he watched "for fun". On VHS tapes, for God's sake.

The bedroom was the most trouble to hammer out, because there was just one. Plus the couch. The obvious way to do this was Finn getting the bed—from Chow's apartment—what with this whole thing being his idea in the first place, but some people just didn't take to simple solutions. Bitterness, probably. His buddies went down hard, and it took all three of them going back to the dump to retrieve Finn's mattress before they'd even agree to rock-paper-scissors, with the winner getting the bed and second place getting the floor mattress. Rematches every six months.

Finn was rewarded for his willingness to compromise with a win—a fair one, even—and six months of a bed that must have been brand new. At least compared to his crappy old one, which Chow was now stuck with. He preferred not thinking about Ratso's mattress. Even the couch was probably better than that. But just try telling that to Ratso.

In fact, they were both acting like they'd gotten pretty raw deals, instead of the fairest chance they could possibly have. So Finn wasn't completely surprised when he woke up and found Chow in bed with him instead of on the bedroom floor, which had just barely enough room to fit the mattress. The only surprise was he'd kind of expected to be shoved onto the floor himself. 

"It's my bed." He'd obviously been waiting for the challenge and was trying to seize the high ground by starting things off.

"In my _apartment_," Finn said.

"And I need the most space," added Ratso, from behind him.

"Would you keep out of—you know, what are you even doing in here?"

"There was space," Ratso said. He shrugged like it was perfectly obvious, and Finn didn't need to look at him. He knew because he could _feel_ him shrugging, because they were both hugging him from either side, and that was _super not okay_.

There was a pause, and once again it was Finn's job to point out the obvious. "Well, uh, someone better start moving pretty fast here," he pointed out.

Another pause.

"It's my bed," Chow said, for only about the five hundredth time since they lugged the stupid bed into Finn's apartment, which he was starting to think was about the dumbest thing they'd ever collectively done.

"There's plenty of space," Ratso said stubbornly, for about the five hundred and first time, and honestly? They should've burned the stupid bed.

"Three in a _bed_, Ratso," he began, with _plenty_ of emphasis to make his point, "is _not_ _plenty_ _of_ _room_." He made sure to give each word its own separate set of italics.

"It's a double," Ratso pointed out. "Might even be a triple."

"Hey," Chow said. "I don't know about you, but I got no experience with that kinda stuff."

And honestly, Chow was being exactly zero help here, so, no, Finn didn't feel all that bad about turning back to him and snapping, "Well, what the hell do you need with a double, either?"

"'Scuse _you_," Chow snapped back. "I'd think you'd be familiar with the concept, what with not having had a girlfriend since I've known you, but some of us like a little room when we, you know, go for a little evening in."

Finn's first instinct was to come back with, "Like I have time for a girlfriend when I gotta take care of you two clowns," but some kind of warning bell went off at the last second on that one.

"Wait," said Ratso. "You're talkin' about this bed here?"

It took a second.

"_DUDE_—what—what, are we lying in your... juices, or whatever, here—?!"

"I wash my sheets! Where do you two do it, on the toilet like an animal?"

"Neither of you does it, at all, as long as you're in my apartment! New rule, shooting right to the top of the list!"

"Yeah," Chow said. "Good luck with that one." Ratso snorted in agreement.

That was actually the last topic Finn wanted to explore any further at the moment, and he made a strategic decision to put it off for later. Much later. "So, uh, as soon as either of you feels like moving," he said, pointedly, "you know... that'd be just great. Would reeeally make my day."

"Hell, no," said Chow. "Freakin' cold out there. When's the last time you bothered paying the heating bill?"

"You gotta kick the radiator, sometimes," Finn muttered. Like the cruddy apartment was his fault. "And by the way, you're both chipping in next month. In fact, you're splitting it—and I'm kicking both your butts as soon as I get outta here, 'cause I am done being the meat in this idiot sandwich."

"You don't call a sandwich after the bread," Ratso said helpfully. "You call it after what's on the inside."

Chow snickered. "He's right! You're gonna hafta workshop that one a little longer."

"Oh, shut up. It's a—a whaddyacallit. An expression. A turn of something."

"Like a BLT," Ratso went on. "Or a turkey sandwich on rye."

"Or an idiot sandwich on two slabs of ice." Chow snickered again. "Hey, c'mon, high five. Or high elbow, whatever."

They bumped elbows a little too enthusiastically for something that wasn't even funny, at all.

"An idiom," Finn burst out. "That's what it is."

"I dunno," Ratso said doubtfully. "I never heard of an idiom sandwich."

"Maybe they make 'em down south," Chow suggested. 

"Now, a bacon club on—hey, what're we doin' for lunch?" 

"What's on the menu is my foot up both your asses, the second I can move again."

"Okay," Chow said. "Never moving again. Got it."

"Nah, I meant like what's in the fridge," said Ratso, who couldn't be distracted from lunch plans by all the dark sorcery in the world.

"Prolly warmer in there than in here." Chow did a big fake exaggerated shiver.

"It's not even that cold, you babies."

"Says you. You're in the middle."

"Yeah," Ratso said. "Lucky."

They both squeezed harder.

"We did the rock paper scissors!" The rock paper scissors was supposed to be sacred. It was the only way to make decisions when they wouldn't just listen to him like usual. "You lost. We agreed you lost!"

"And we're not moving," said Chow. There's a hint of actual rebellion that he's not used to from the two of them, squabbling aside.

"And why the hell not?" It really, actually, wasn't even cold at all, and Finn knew it. It was San Francisco spring moving into summer.

"Tired of sleepin' alone," Ratso said after a moment.

"Ain't we done enough of that for one lifetime?" said Chow. "You too good for us now or somethin'?"

And hell, Finn didn't mind that much. They were always there, on one side or the other. Rolling in the dough or poor as shit, orange-skinned freaks or back to human—wherever the hell they ended up it was the three of them. And that part was okay even if nothing else was.

Plus they were ganging up on him. Like that was even fair.

"Whatever," he said finally, instead of _Like I ever fucking could be._

"We can save on heat," Ratso offered.

"Ratso, this is San Francisco."

"Yeah," Chow said. "So when in Rome, right?"

"Whatever," Finn muttered again. "Just watch those roamin' hands."

He was pretty sure they were holding hands over him. Fuckers.

But two against one was never any fun. So what the hell.

When in Rome.


End file.
